


Dopesick

by caswell



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Drug Withdrawal, Emetophobia, Gen, Please Read The Author's Note I Beg Of U, some parts won't make sense if you don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 07:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: The first time Jared sees Connor cry, it's at 1:30 in the morning on a Tuesday.





	Dopesick

**Author's Note:**

> HEY... thank you for reading these.... this is for my bff Ithiel's crust punk Connor AU, so here's a couple things you need to know:  
> \- In this, Evan and Jared didn't meet until middle/high school.  
> \- Andrew, who's referenced, is Connor's abuser.  
> ...That's it. Just don't clown around in the comments because it doesn't conform to canon sdfkjgn

When Jared was in high school- probably around the tenth grade- Evan slept over with him for the first time. It was Evan’s first sleepover  _ ever _ , actually, although Jared refused to call it that. It was just some guy bonding that happened to continue overnight and involve sleeping bags. Evan woke him up in the middle of the night bawling, talking about some stress dream he’d had where his mother had died and he wasn’t there to save her. 

All of this is to say that it’s not the first time Jared has woken up to the sound of somebody crying. It’s never a pleasant experience, but it’s one he’s gotten accustomed to after so many years of being Evan’s best/only/family friend. This time, though, it’s not Evan who’s woken him up. It’s Connor.

The sound rouses him at about half past one in the morning, and Jared squeezes his eyes tight against it. He’ll go help soon, but he needs to take a moment of silence for his full night of sleep. It’s no longer than a few seconds, though; this sounds urgent, and, believe it or not, he genuinely cares about people, so he’s not about to let whoever it is cry their eyes out with no company. Unceremoniously, Jared rolls out of bed and manages to land on his feet with a grunt, though his joints do pop a little. He’ll deal with that later. 

There’s something about the crying that seems off, somehow. It’s not like how it’s always sounded before. Granted, Jared hasn’t heard Evan cry in a long while, but this is distinctly different. The reason for that is evident when Jared peeks into his room: Evan is fast asleep, even snoring a little bit. So that means… 

Jared turns toward the guest room across the hall and raps on the door with tentative knuckles- quietly, so as not to wake Evan up. “Connor?” he asks, voice low.

The crying pauses for a moment, replaced by a sniffle, then continues as if nothing had happened. Jared shrugs and opens the door, slipping through the threshold on quiet feet. Connor is seated at the end of the bed, a large popcorn bowl on the mattress next to him- Jared grimaces as it dawns on him what that must be for- tears rolling down his face as he clutches his stomach. “I tried not to wake you up,” he says, barely loud enough for Jared to hear.

“I’m a light sleeper,” Jared says dismissively, his own ‘it's okay’. He has a sneaking suspicion of what's going on, but he still asks, “What's wrong? Stomach bug?”

Connor shakes his head, and, in a tone that betrays a degree of shame, answers, “Dope sickness. From the…” He clears his throat. “The heroin. Or lack thereof.”

As he's done so many times, Jared stares at his old childhood best friend, marvelling at how far he's come- and not in a good way. Not that he blames him. Again- he may be a dick, but he's not going to blame an addict for being an addict. When Connor turns his head in an effort to look at him out of the corner of his eye, Jared says, “Ah. Um, I'm sorry?”

Connor runs a hand through his hair, and, as Jared approaches, he notes that his palm is covered in sweat. There are goosebumps running up and down Connor's arm, eliciting a shiver from Jared as he looks on. Hesitantly, he sits down next to Connor and attempts to place a hand on his shoulder, but Connor flinches away, inhaling in a sharp gasp.

Again, Jared apologizes: “Shit. Sorry.” There’s silence, then, a palpable, tangible quiet that threatens to claw its way down Jared’s throat and rest there. Instead of letting it win, Jared does what he does best: attempts to bring levity to the situation. “You know, I’m sorta glad this is heroin withdrawals. At least this way you won’t be stinking up the bathroom.”

After another beat of silence, Connor gives a short huff of laughter and scrapes bitten fingernails on his scalp. “You're a dick,” he says with a roll of his eyes, but it seems to help, so Jared continues.

“Hey, I take offense to that. Would a dick stay up with you at 1:30 in the AM because you’re a little nauseous?”

Connor's gaze softens further for a moment before he doubles over again, gritting his teeth. “Fucking cramps,” he mutters. “Never woulda started on that shit if I knew this would happen.”

“Yeah, it is sorta pitiful,” Jared says, and truly doesn't mean anything by it, just gentle teasing, but-

Connor looks up, stares at the wall with glassy eyes. “Pitiful, huh?” he says weakly. “Yeah. You're right. This is all pretty pathetic.”

Jared opens his mouth, blinks. Well, shit. “No, I-”

“Andrew was right about me, I know, it's…” Connor clears this throat again, choked with phlegm and tears. “Disgusting.”

“I was just kidding,” Jared says, a plea for forgiveness without an apology. 

Connor holds his hand up, stopping Jared before he can open his mouth again. “No, it's okay, I get it.” He takes a shuddering breath in, then out; at this point, Jared can't tell if he's crying from physical pain, emotional pain, or both. “You can leave if you want. You don't have to babysit me.”

“I'm not leaving,” Jared promises, and digs his fingernails into the comforter as the words catch in his throat, damp with tears. Double shit. He already knew he cries whenever Evan does- yes, Jared “The Asshole Friend” Kleinman is capable of empathy, thank you very much- but this is new. “Connor, I'm not gonna just-”

“Hold that thought,” Connor says, and grabs the bowl; Jared turns his head away, giving Connor privacy as he retches sour vomit into it. Idly, Jared makes a mental note to never use that particular bowl again. 

“You, um… you good, there?” Jared asks, daring to peek back.

Connor stares down at the bowl for a few moments, wipes the corner of his mouth, then sets the bowl on the floor. Hazardous, but Jared's not about to call him out on it. “No,” he answers. “Do I  _ look  _ okay?” He raises his head to meet Jared's eyes. His skin is heart-wrenchingly pale, and the hair that borders his face is slick with sweat. There are distinct bags beneath his eyes, wiser than they should be, shining with tears. Jared can barely look.

“Okay,” he says, “that was a stupid question.” He blinks, turns away again. “Look, I'm really sorry about… I, uh, I didn't mean anything by it.”

Connor inhales deeply and closes his eyes tight. “You were right, though. I'm just some dopesick burnout with a penchant for being a massive fuckup.”

“You're not a-”

“I ran off and got myself hooked on this shit, I let my girlfriend lose herself to it-”

Tears prick at Jared's eyes, just as he'd suspected. He'd say he's cursed to have a heart, but that's a bit too dramatic, even for him. He makes a valiant attempt to blink them away, but they just stick to his eyelashes for a moment before dripping onto his cheeks. Great. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he assures Connor, then coughs and clears his throat. There’s a lot of throat clearing going on tonight, it seems. “You’re just… a little messed up.” Those certainly aren’t the right words, but… they’re what he has.

Connor gives a wry smile, wiping a tear from one reddened eye. “Well, you’re not wrong. And I wish I could blame it on leaving this shithole town, but I can’t even do that, because…” He falls quiet, shaking his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to talk about that.” Jared nods, and is about to say something when Connor cuts in: “Wait, are you crying?”

Jared touches his cheek to find that it’s damp, as expected. More tears must have been slipping from his eyes without him noticing. “It’s nothing,” he says. “I cry when my friends cry. That’s all.”

Connor blinks, a final tear crawling down his cheekbone and down to his jaw, and says softly, “I’m sorry.”

He’s not certain why, but Jared laughs, though there’s no humor in it. Why should there be when one of his best (well, two) friends is dope-sick to the point of crying at- Jared checks the alarm clock on the nightstand- 1:45 in the morning? He swallows, then says, “It’s okay. I promise.”

“No, it’s _not_ okay. I’m a fucking- I’m a human car crash, Jared.” The desperation in Connor’s voice is unlike anything Jared’s ever heard before, even from Evan, who is- or, at least, was- a notorious nervous wreck. Connor hunches his shoulders, withdrawing into himself; whether it’s because of the withdrawal pains or because he wants to escape, Jared isn’t quite sure. “And now I’m just making you pity me. Right?” Connor places a clammy hand on Jared’s shoulder, shaking it with a force that Jared is frankly surprised that he can muster up right now. “Right?”

“I don’t- I don’t pity you, Connor,” Jared says, and points to a tear that’s welling up in the corner of one eye. “See? This is real, genuine empathy.” 

“Well, I’m still sorry.” Connor heaves a sigh and rubs one wrist on his face, dragging off some of the wetness. “For making you cry, and for being… like this. Let me make it up to you?”

Jared sighs, a shaky, stumbling exhalation, and says, “I’ll forgive you if you make us breakfast.” (He never held it against Connor, not for a second, but if this is what it’ll take…)

“...At two in the morning?” Connor asks, quirking one eyebrow.

Jared shrugs. “I said what I said. We’ve got pancake mix in the pantry; I’ll wake up Evan.”

Connor snorts, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, that’s the Jared I know. No more of that empathy shit.”

Jared manages a shaky smile and places a hand on Connor’s shoulder; this time, he doesn’t flinch away. “Look, in all seriousness… if this ever happens again-”

“It will.”

“Okay,  _ when  _ it happens again, just… call for me, alright?” 

“Yeah,” Connor says, words dripping with gratitude, “I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love you!  
> If you liked this, go read the official fic for the AU: "Saints and Sinners Alike" by Knourish (OceanicWaters)!  
> Also: I'm aware that diarrhea is a symptom of heroin withdrawal, but I feel like Jared wouldn't, so. shrug emoji


End file.
